The Secret Sin

Dear old and new friends, Rare, if ever, is this sin confessed to your spouse or confessor. Unlike other clandestine sins, this one isn’t enjoyable to anticipate or experience—it’s disturbing. The sin of which I speak is having thoughts of doubts about God and other holy truths. Like many of you I have known the Apostles’ Creed by heart ever since childhood, but it has been said that we believe what we believe without believing! A childhood profession of religious faith can in adulthood be an expression of habitual thinking, beliefs never questioned. Later in life small cracks can appear in a religious creed. These cracks begin to leak doubts into your consciousness that can cause fearful anxiety. Worries follow doubts that you are losing your faith which in turn causes dark depression. Mother Teresa of Calcutta, proclaimed a saint for her loving care of the destitute in India, in later life suffered from doubts and oppressive depression. Doubting Teresa sadly did not have to suffer the agony of depression for her holy thoughts of doubt! “Holy thoughts”…wait a minute; didn’t you begin speaking about the sin of doubting? Yes, but that was to get your attention. Doubts and faith go together like the Long Ranger and Tonto, Lewis and Clark, peanut butter and jelly. Doubting isn’t sinful, rather a virtuous traveling companion for lovers of God. Uncertainty about God’s supposed intervention in some near-death escape or the existence of hell and heaven act as safeguards against being a religious fanatic. Questioning ancient church dogmas or bold pronouncements of science about the universe are only a natural recognition of the limits of our extremely imperfect human intelligence. It is healthy to question the veracity of two thousand year old miraculous relics like the “believed” actual nails with which Jesus was supposedly crucified—even if nowhere in scripture does it say he was nailed to the cross! Especially today in the 21st century, mind-boggling miracles and holy apparitions are no longer credible or even plausible if using the old roman rule of thumb: “Credo quia impossibile”… “I believe because it is impossible.” Secret Doubters, perhaps it is time for a new and more honest Apostles Creed. The A’possible Creed I have doubts God created earth out of nothing—but it’s possible. I have doubts Jesus was born of a Virgin—but it’s possible. I have doubts about the resurrection of the body—but it’s possible.

Temporary Insanity

Dear old and new friends, Irritating frustration is common whenever our computers fail, rush hour traffic comes to a standstill or a neighbor mows his lawn at dawn on Sunday, only to mention three of untold annoyances that can cause angry outbursts. Even when we are innocent, we easily become targets of another’s anger; an irate fellow motorist, an impatient spouse or a grouchy boss. A good way to respond to other’s sudden angry explosion is to judge the outraged person as “being temporarily insane.” So thought the old Roman poet Horace who said, “Anger is a short madness.” Brief bouts of madness are most often caused by any perceived attack on “the self” or something directly connected to the self. Consider the instance of a driver who fantasizes the highway is his own private byway. He races up behind you in traffic and shouts, “You f#*x#*g old white headed slowpoke.” Honk…honk…honk. “Get out of my way!” Instead of recycling anger with anger, use the legally excusing factor of our justice system and judge him as suffering from temporary insanity, and serenely continue on your way. If, however, it is you who suffer from frequent brief bouts of anger, consider praying for help to the patron saint of lunatics and madmen, the Irish Saint Fillan. This eighth-century Irish hermit’s hermitage was in Scotland, and he was legendary for his calming influence on those considered mad. Centuries after his death people thought to be crazy were plunged into the icy cold water of Strathfillan, a deep pool near his old hermitage. Dripping wet, chilled to the bone, they were then tied up tightly with ropes and left overnight in the saint’s tiny old chapel. If in the morning their ropes were found untied they were considered to be cured. If you wish to be freed of your brief attacks of madness you don’t have to go on a pilgrimage to Strathfillan. Instead develop a peaceful lifestyle of slowly eliminating being disturbed by mistakes, both yours and others. Also cultivate an acceptance of life’s irritating irregularities as being an unavoidable aspect of human nature. If in spite of all your efforts, you experience an uncontrollable attack of anger, take a contemporary cure of good Saint Fillan—a cold shower! Or cool down by briefly breathing deeply. Usually you’ll find you’ve been touched by an Irish miracle as your brief madness evaporates into thin air.

The Resurrection of May Dancing

Dear old and new friends, Once there was an Abbot of a Zen Monastery who vowed never again to walk across the bridge that spanned the deep chasm between his monastery and the outside world. One day two old friends came to his monastery to visit him, and the three had a big feast with many cups of Saki. When it was time for his friends to leave, the abbot walked with them down to the bridge. The three friends were merrily recalling old times and before they realized it, they had crossed the bridge! Laughing his friends shouted, “Hey, you just broke your vow!” The abbot joined them in their giddy hilarity as the three hugged one another to keep from falling into the gorge. Instead of being deep in remorse and guilt at breaking his vow the abbot responded humorously at how Life often is triumphant over our human plans. His ability to laugh heartily at himself and at life’s incongruities was an expression of the Zen principle of “Mu.” It teaches whenever our plans are overturned we should embrace that reality as simply being part of Life’s spur-of-the-moment dance. Daily life isn’t some well-organized parade; it is an unscheduled lively dance even in chaotic events. Am I saying that when things go wrong we should just go with the flow? No, only dead fish go with the flow! Whenever next the rug is pulled out from beneath you, don’t get angry or accept the calamity stoically, instead dance a lively polka with your predicament. Since ancient times the month of May and dancing have been lively companions. A young slender tree with its branches pruned except for a green bunch of them at the very top became the May Pole of a spring fertility ritual. For continuous centuries during May a multicolored striped pole was erected to which long colorful ribbons were tied. The ends of these ribbons were held by young people as they merrily danced around and around the pole celebrating the explosion of new life in creation. The Mechanized Age judged May Poles incompatible! Rare in our times are May Pole dances except in a few kindergartens, since the custodians and celebrants of ancient rituals are small children. Regardless how old or arthritic we are, let us revive the prehistoric pleasure of dancing, even if only symbolically. Friedrich Nietzsche said, “You must have chaos within you to give birth to a dancing star”—to which I add, “Chaos in your life should give birth to you as a dancing star.” Chaos equals the unexpected, accidents, setbacks and even falling in love—anything that causes havoc and disorder. In creative ways the chaos of change is crucial to a new and unique creation. So when next Life throws a monkey wrench into your plans you can echo the Scottish poet Robert Burns, “The best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men gang aft a-gley (often go astray)” while you do a brief Scottish reel, Irish jig or tango.

The Prescription

Dear old and new friends, The author Robert Fulghum wrote about a personal account of a lady he knew who went to a psychiatrist in relation to some troubles. After attentively listening to her, the psychiatrist wrote out a prescription, folded it and gave it to her saying, “Promise you won’t return until you have used up this prescription.” She agreed and took the prescription to her druggist. After reading it he handed it back to her, “I can’t fill this,” he said, “but you can.” The prescription? “Spend one hour some Sunday watching the sunrise while walking in a cemetery.” Fulghum says this woman, who no longer was attending church, used that prescription and does so now several times a year. He concludes he doesn’t know if her Sunday practice entitles her to heaven, but he does know that her life here on earth is no longer the hell it once was. *** Today we eat and read…and do everything in a hurry. Our mothers wisely told us to slow down and chew our food when we ate. Unlike reading for pleasure or information, when we read for inner-formation it requires that same rule. What is read for soul growth should be embraced, digested and known from the inside out. Read a little, think a lot! The true story of that woman and her unusual prescription is a modern parable. Read it again and unhurriedly chew on it to help you digest its meaning. As you do, ask yourself the following questions slowly one by one: What, if anything, does this story have to do with me and my life? Why was it necessary to spend an entire hour in a cemetery? What else besides walking was she to do during that hour? Why was she to be in a cemetery at such an early hour as sunrise?

Edward Hays

Haysian haphazard thoughts on theinvisible and visible mysteries of life.